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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998524">All the Things I Can See in the Dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagheerita/pseuds/bagheerita'>bagheerita</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>my name forevermore [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Atlantis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Dialogue Light, M/M, POV First Person, Touching, Writing Exercise, saccharine like whoa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:06:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagheerita/pseuds/bagheerita</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion to "Catalog." There is more to them than Todd can put into words.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Sheppard/Todd the Wraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>my name forevermore [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1159649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All the Things I Can See in the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eos_x/gifts">Eos_x</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Eos1969 because you asked for Todd to have his "turn." (I'm <i>so</i> excited that one of my ideas that I wanted to write for you has come together to become an actual story!!)<br/>With this story I wanted to try something a bit different from "Catalog," so instead of dialogue only I did the reverse. I mean, some dialogue felt necessary, but it's very limited. And it's in first person. I'm not sure about that, but it's how Todd wanted it apparently!<br/>With thanks to Mavet who took a look, and helped me with some structural issues, so that I could surprise you. :)</p><p><b>The My Name Forevermore series has reached double digits in installments!</b> In order to help people keep track of what happens when, I've put together a timeline you can find at <a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/h3qxht54ixivlw3/MNF%20timeline.pdf?dl=0"> this link</a>. It's linked on the series page as well and I'll put a link at the beginning of each new story for a while. Please let me know if there are any ways I can make this more useful, or if there are other charts/documents that could be helpful to readers. (I'm working on a character listing, but it may be a minute.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I stand by the wall panel that controls the room's lighting and look back at him.</p><p>He is sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, legs folded underneath him, grinning in challenge. He lifts his chin in invitation.</p><p>I smirk.</p><p>It is, perhaps, not entirely a comforting expression, but I know he does not look on it with trepidation. The last thing I see before disengaging the lighting is the eagerness in his eyes. They look very green at this moment, but when the light goes it steals their color.</p><p>Wraith cannot see in utter darkness any more than humans can. Not with eyes. But to my other senses the room is easily navigable, and he is the center of it. I can feel the heat of his body, almost like seeing, and I taste his anticipation on the air, a heady fragrance that I take in through sensory pits.</p><p>To describe the sensation highlights the limits of language, for I <em>sensetastesmellfeel </em>him, all together at once. He is <em>strongsoftskinhairsweatsoapgunoildesireddesiring </em>all at once as well, a continuing input of sensation that bursts over me pleasantly as I tilt my head back to draw him in more fully.</p><p>I stride over to the bed and raise my left hand to touch his cheek. He flinches from the rush of air the motion causes, but he expects my touch and turns into the feel of my hand, pressing his skin to mine. His cheek and jaw are rough with short hairs growing, and I spread my hand over the span of his face, feeling him, his breath hot against my palm. I raise my other hand to rest a finger in the center of his forehead and press backward with a slow but insistent motion. He moves as I urge him, to lie back on the bed, his arms spread out on the surface of it carelessly, his legs also stretched out carelessly.</p><p>Sitting beside his hip, I rest my left hand on the flat of his stomach, feeling his skin twitch under my touch. I slide it upward to feel his chest move as he breathes, and back down to card fingers through the short, curly hair of his groin. His breathing grows shakier and he swallows heavily. I smirk again, though in the darkness he cannot see me. He had attempted to be somewhat methodical in his explorations, but I see no need to begin at any particular point. Every part of him is precious to me.</p><p>With fingers pressed to his skin I slide the pads of them up his abdomen again, feeling the resistance as I brush hair against the path of its growth. His skin is soft over the hard planes of muscle that lie beneath it. Once I am past the cavity of the abdomen, I can feel his bones, ribs caging lungs and heart and firmer under my fingers. The line of hair spreads over his pectoral muscles as I follow it up, and I feel his heart beating more quickly under my fingers. I can hear it, racing with desire, moving the hot blood through him, and I watch the way he moves as he licks his lips.</p><p>My fingers move lower to trace along the path of bone that is the bottom rib and he chuckles, leaning into the touch eagerly. It is a place of great sensitivity on myself, and I suspect he expects me to attempt to take a certain vengeance against his own deliberate exploration. But my left hand moves back, to the area further up his chest, a different destination in mind.</p><p>I reach with my right hand to touch his lips, my thumb brushing over them, my fingers curled against his cheek, preventing my palm from being flush to his skin. His tongue darts out to taste, and he opens his mouth and takes my thumb between his teeth. He turns his head and abandons the taste of the thumb in favor of licking his tongue up the seam of the feeding orifice on my palm. I hiss in remonstration and don't need to see his smug grin to know it's there.</p><p>Meanwhile, my left hand rests on his own left pectoral, and I press the pad of one finger to the nipple there, pebbled hard either by the cool air in the room or his own arousal, and stroke it back and forth. He yelps, muttering, "<em>Fuck</em>, fuck," and writhes on the bed.</p><p>He raises his right hand as if to reach for me and I admonish, "It is my turn. You are not allowed to touch." My voice is not without some glee, I will admit.</p><p>"Fuck," is his sincere reply, and I chuckle in my own turn. I lean over to lave my tongue against his other nipple. He whimpers beneath me, his hands snagging in the sheets of the bed as he arches into my touch.</p><p>The nipple is less warm, and darker to my senses, than the hot pulsing of blood in the chest beneath it. The sensation of the hard nub of flesh is less interesting than other parts of him I have had in my mouth, but the way he shivers and writhes at the ministration is agreeable. I hum softly in pleasure, and he whimpers again.</p><p>I lean over him, giving a singular lick to the other nipple which my fingertips have been working, and then leaning up further to press lips to lips. He surges into the kiss eagerly, as if, forbidden the use of his hands, he can pour the entirely of his love into this one touch. I allow him to attempt it, though he need not; this activity is about physical exploration, but the truth of his love is bound in my thoughts.</p><p>To distract him I flick the nipple again with my fingernails, eliciting an admirable hiss from him, and lean back to look down at him. His body is a map of heat marks; I can sense the slight trembling of his muscles as he quivers with the desire to respond to further touch. His legs move restlessly, and I reach to stroke his thigh to settle him. His thighs fall open, his left leg nudging against me where I sit beside him. The hard length of his cock juts up into the air and I can see it is hot with blood- I can <em>sensetastesmellfeel</em> his strong desire for me to touch him. I stroke my fingers over the outside of his thigh and down his leg, tracing patterns in his hair. He groans.</p><p>Grinning, I bring my hand back up to run the tips of my clawlike fingernails over the skin of his scrotum. His human skin is so sensitive and delicate in this area, and he reacts with a shout closer to surprise than anything desirous, but which fades into a curious pleasure as my fingers press more fully, and he thrusts toward me, seeking more in the way of contact.</p><p>I withdraw my hand and nudge his hip. I know he enjoys the sound of my voice, so I instruct as well, "Turn over," even as I urge him onto his stomach, deeper into the bed. He rolls away from me, and I stroke the backs of his legs, brushing the hair the wrong way from ankle to knee. He shivers; my pausing at the knee and tickling the back of it with the tips of my fingernails in curiosity has him yelping in affront. Chuckling, I lean over him and stroke his thigh in apology. I lay my body atop his fully.</p><p>He shudders, spreading his thighs, inviting me closer against him. I can feel his sharp attention to the thought that my cock, nestled in the cleft of his ass, might penetrate him. He thrusts back against me in invitation.</p><p>I hum, and nibble lightly at the curve of his shoulder before turning my face against his neck. I could stay here a long time, basking in the sensation of him, hot and wanting and all against me. I desire him, but to lay here and feel the urgent life of him is sweet to my senses, almost sweeter than climax.</p><p>True to such a hotblooded creature, he squirms beneath me, seeing no reason for my patience other than to deny him fulfillment. I hum reassuringly when he turns his face to try to peer up at me in the darkness and kiss his seeking lips. He kisses back eagerly, and I can feel his enthusiasm that allows no time for patience.</p><p>I wonder if his desire to hurry through this moment is in part due to a deeper unease at his blindness in the darkness, and with that thought I take the time to trace my tongue along the outer curve of his ear, humming softly as I nuzzle at his hair. I would take the unconscious fear of darkness away from him and fill it with memories of me. He need never face the darkness alone, ever again.</p><p>Our explorations are purely physical, but he shudders in the way he does when he is overwhelmed with emotion he cannot express, and I wonder if he knows my thoughts. I do not feel the touch of his mind as I usually do, but even I do not know all the ways we are bound together. This bond is unlike any I have established with any other.</p><p>He no longer feels anxious in the dark, and I lean up on my hands to get an angle at which I can easily slide against him. His eagerness and anticipation at the thought of me inside of him makes me hum louder. I raise my left hand and trace patterns of blood vessels over his shoulders and down his back. When I reach his entrance, I press my thumb against it, rubbing it over the puckered skin. He moans softly in affirmation.</p><p>I lean down to run my tongue over the opening as well, lying full on the bed and pressing his legs open further to lick my way down his perineum. Moistened with my own preejaculate, I return my thumb to his opening, circling the pucker again before pressing in teasingly.</p><p>He presses back against the invasion readily, and I am almost tempted to depart from my plan to give him this. I know he loves to be filled as much as I love to fill him. But this day I have another goal, one that I am certain he will enjoy just as much.</p><p>I rub my thumb over his entrance again, and then I lean back. Startled, he looks for me. "What-" he begins, but I grab him by the hips and flip him over on to his back again.</p><p>He lets his legs fall around my hips easily, but I pull them back up, my hands running down the length of them, feeling the shape of him under his skin. "So impatient," I murmur as I take one ankle in my right hand, nuzzling the flesh of it experimentally. I like the feel of the short, thickly grown hairs against my skin, but while his own adventurous explorations had involved quite a lot of licking and biting of various limbs, I do not feel the need to reciprocate in that way.</p><p>He chuckles at my admonition, and his hands move restlessly in the sheets. I can feel his desire to touch me and realize it may not be only an atavistic fear that makes him impatient.</p><p>I lay his legs flat against the bed to my side, then straddle them so that I can lean over him, my forehead to his, our groins nearly touching.</p><p>He groans, shifting his weight beneath me and causing our cocks to bump together. I groan myself at the sensation; he gasps, and I feel his breath against my face. I lean on my right forearm, braced against the bed above his head, nuzzling his cheek, his neck, as he thrusts against me, murmuring, "Now? <em>Please</em>..."</p><p>My left hand trails down my own body as I murmur back, distracted, "Not yet." As I had teased his opening, I press my thumb against my own. I am already full of the <em>sensetastesmellfeel </em>of him and my body accepts the intrusion eagerly, knowing what comes next. I moan, a low guttural sound.</p><p>He moves restlessly against me, aware that he hasn't done anything to pull such a sound from me and wondering what is keeping my hands from his eagerly straining cock.</p><p>I laugh against his throat, taking a moment to lean down and lick over a nipple again.</p><p>"Oh, <em>fuck</em>, you're the <em>worst</em>," he complains, hands and arms twisting in agitation.</p><p>"For which you are usually so grateful," I reply, and I take both our cocks together in my left hand. He groans and thrusts into my grip with abandon. I grin at his fervor and I smear his cock liberally with the preejaculate that leaks from mine.</p><p>I can tell by the way he shifts his pelvis that he is still expecting me to fuck him, until I hold his cock by the base so that it is steady and sink down on it.</p><p>"<em>Unnh,</em>" he says in surprise.</p><p>His hands come up from the bed, forgetting, and I snarl and bat them away.</p><p>"Shit, shit, please let me touch you, <em>damn </em>you feel so good," he says. His body shivers beneath me, his knees coming up to bracket me from behind.</p><p>"<em>I</em> am touching <em>you</em>," I reply. "Was that not the exercise?" I sink down further until he is fully inside me.  The touch of thoughts is something integral to the relationship we have, but I will confess I enjoy this as well- the purely physical joining of bodies, of bringing and receiving pleasure. Of being filled with him.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>, yes, yes, okay." He shudders. He inhales raggedly and says, voice haggard, "Tell me when."</p><p>"I am ready," I reply. My body adjusts to the invasion more easily than his, which is part of the reason I chose this position. I rise up slightly, bracing my hands on his knees behind me, mostly to offer him that additional point of contact in the darkened room.</p><p>He thrusts up against me fast and hard, his moan of pleasure somewhat strained. I close my eyes against what I can still see even in the darkness to better focus on feeling him, the hard length of him touching every place inside that is so receptive, the feel of his powerful thighs against my legs and back. I lean over him, drinking in the <em>sensetastesmellfeel </em>of him, drawing him in- he tastes of sweetness and warm titillating things, and he smells of sharpness and demand, and he is <em>minebrothersworntome</em>, and further things for which there are no words. I lick the sweat from his collarbone and a fine note of desperation threads itself into the bouquet as he groans, gritting his teeth and fisting his hands in the bedclothes frantically, thrusting himself against me in search of a climax.</p><p>My left hand rests on one of his sensitive nipples, turning from teasing touches to a more urgent holding against his chest as need for him builds in me as well; despite the rules of our play, I desire the touch of his hands on me.</p><p>"Sheppard." I reach out my right hand, and his own right hand meets mine in the air as if attuned to my thoughts, knowing that I would be reaching for him at this moment. I interlace his fingers with mine, his palm pressed to the back of my hand, the words written there joined in a promise. I bring his hand to my lips, brushing the back of it against my face, the sense of his hands rising specifically out of the <em>sensetastesmellfeel </em>of him in entirety- the <em>sensetouch</em> of his own pleasure in his skin against mine, the fragility of his body belied by the power of his spirit, expressed in the mingled strength and gentleness of the touch of his fingers, held between mine.</p><p>"<em>Todd</em>," he groans. I settle down against him, holding him fully inside me.</p><p>"Very well," I reply.</p><p>His left hand whips up from the bed with less coordination than its mirror had managed earlier. It hits my shoulder in the attempt to find me in the dark, but then his fingers spread smoothly over my skin as he skims them up to my face. I nuzzle into his touch and he slides his hand behind my neck to pull himself up to kiss me.</p><p>I have never before known anyone <em>so </em>invested in kissing. It is, likely, a product of his being human, and born in a different tradition, though I do not begrudge it him at all. His passion makes the exploration never boring, and he is talented at having learned to take it slow so that he does not hurt himself, though he is uncharacteristically sloppy now, nicking his tongue on a tooth before withdrawing and kissing his way over my jaw to bite playfully at my throat.</p><p>His left hand, once having oriented itself, is well familiar with the geography, and finds its way down so that he can wrap his fingers around the length of my cock. I shiver; he is everywhere, and his hand strips its way up and down my sensitive cock with eagerness before slowing down to explore specific features. He traces the tip, and the corona at the base of the head, and the ridge below that, each in turn with a single finger, and it is my turn to writhe against him, moaning as I press him to the bed beneath me and he thrusts the length of his own cock in me. He murmurs against my ear words so soft even my own sensitive hearing cannot understand them over the rushing of my blood- but I do not need to. I can feel the strength of his love overflowing into amusement as he traces his thumb down the length of the sensitive underside of my cock, where vein and bone run close to the skin. I snarl and bite down on his shoulder, and he yelps and comes, thrusting inside me.</p><p>The feel of him sweeps me away and I come in the same moment, spilling over his fingers, feeling the hot splash of him against me inside even as my release splatters against his abdomen and chest. I groan, nuzzling his shoulder and throat. I am happy and sated and curled against him, petting through his hair.</p><p>He nuzzles me in search of more kissing, and we kiss lazily until he groans and shifts uncomfortably.</p><p>I roll off of him, and he gropes blindly for me in the darkness to seek me out for more kissing, his hands holding my face between them as he leans over me, his body aligning with mine as he seeks the feel of me in the darkness.</p><p>I can tell that his shoulder is not bleeding, but I still nuzzle the place where I bit him, the area sensitive, and he hisses above me. I lean back, but he urges me closer again, murmuring, "I like it."</p><p>I hum and seek out his fingers to bring them to my own neck where he'd bitten me. "As do I."</p><p>He scoffs, as the mark he left is already faded, but, moving slowly, he leans his forehead against mine. Even this close it is so dark we cannot see anything, but my sensory pits <em>sensetastesmellfeel </em>him. "Good," he murmurs against my face, his breath hot. I can see the way his skin moves as he grins, the warmth of him like fire to all of my senses.</p><p> </p><p>He leans back, sitting up and reaching his arms into the air, and I hum appreciatively as the play of muscle flickers in shades of orange and red and the sweat the exudes from him means that he is even brighter to the way I can <em>sensetastesmellfeel </em>him.</p><p>He stills, and the lighting comes up.</p><p>I flinch away from the light, though it isn't as bright as it could be. "It does that?" I observe dryly.</p><p>He grins and says smugly, "Sometimes."</p><p>"Ahh," I muse. Such smugness deserves an appropriate retaliation, though perhaps it will have to wait for another time.</p>
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